Leave It All Abroad: Extended Edition
by xxhsmTGxx
Summary: Italy was supposed to be the place to relax, reset, and help an old friend. But who else Gabriella finds there could rekindle an old flame and expose a conspiracy wilder than her imagination. This month will be anything but a vacation. (Troyella)
1. Positano Calling

**AN: This story was originally published from February to September 2019, but I've decided to post this rewrite as a completely new story because I wanted to preserve the original for anyone who might want to reread it at a later date. It was crazy ride, absolute BANANAS and it will only get more intense with this version. A lot of original content has been persevered, but I intend to add lots of new mystery and complexity. So sit back, grab your tea/coffee/wine and enjoy!**

* * *

Gliding through the Los Angeles smog, her palms sweating and knees shaking, Gabriella remembered her breathing exercises. She was nearly an expert with all the recent practice: inhale for four, hold for four, exhale for four. Whenever the new job anxiety soured her stomach, she concentrated on her breath and exhaled all the worry away in specially assigned four-second increments.

The woman's name was Sharpay Evans, and according to the ad Gabriella found a week ago, she was in desperate need of a personal assistant, although she couldn't figure out what for. A quick Google search showed that her father, Vance Evans, was the founder of numerous golf courses across the US. She lived the complete trust fund lifestyle - her Instagram full of beautiful landscapes and happy faces, each one more joyous and awestruck than the next. A family reunion in Paris, a fashion show in London, skiing in Aspen. Intrigued by the woman in pink and whatever her needs could possibly be, Gabriella sent an application.

It rained so hard the next day that Gabriella nearly missed the vibrating phone over sound of fat droplets splattering on her window. "Hello?"

"Is this Gabriella?"

"Yes, who is calling?"

There was an excited gasp on the line like she had reunited with an old friend. "It's Sharpay Evans!" Gabriella felt stuck on a delay, unable to process everything as fast as Sharpay excitedly rambled. "I read your application and I just _love_ you! When's the soonest you can start? I'm actually _dying_ to meet you!"

Some arrangements later and now Gabriella was landing in Los Angeles on the Evans' private jet, her stomach tightened to a knot with anticipation. The stairs opened, and Sharpay called out from the tarmac, "Welcome to L.A.!" She greeted Gabriella with a tight hug, a generous welcome basket overflowing with expensive lotions and candies, and the keys to a brand-new work car.

The first time Sharpay asked her to book pedicures for two, Gabriella mistakenly assumed the other seat was for a friend and neglected to shave her legs. At the appointment when Gabriella discovered the other seat was for her, she was embarrassed and touched by Sharpay's generosity. And it continued like this for months, everything Sharpay asked for came with a little something extra for Gabriella. A small clutch to pair with her designer tote, a tall coffee to match her venti latte, a guest room next to her master bedroom.

A month later as they shared a market price charcuterie board at one of Los Angeles' finest lunch spots, it suddenly occurred to her – the real reason Sharpay wanted an assistant. She was searching for companionship, not someone to manage her calendar app. Sharpay hired a best friend. Part of Gabriella was grateful; she lived in a beautiful mansion, had an easy enough job, and made good money from it. But the guilt became too strong. She knew taking Sharpay's money in exchange for a friendship was horribly wrong. A brief month after she started, Gabriella slid a personal letter of resignation beneath Sharpay's door and returned to Albuquerque with a farewell promise to keep in touch.

* * *

_Four Years Later_

"I need you to visit me here in Italy to see if I should marry him or not."

As ridiculous as the request was, Gabriella wasn't surprised. Only Sharpay would suggest something so absurd with the confidence of total rationality. "I have work," she responded.

"Take a vacation," Sharpay nonchalantly suggested.

"It's not that easy."

Sharpay rolled her eyes and impatiently sighed, leaning away from the camera until the bedazzled _Princess_ across her camisole came into view. It was only two in the morning over there and Gabriella wondered not for the first time if Sharpay actually owned anything that wasn't hot pink or covered in rhinestones. "It'll only be a month," Sharpay said.

"That's a long time to be away from work."

"I thought you were leaving that job anyways."

"I'm still thinking about it. They haven't paid me for last month, but I don't want to provoke the wife. She seems a little…I don't know, I just have a weird feeling about her." A loud ring from Sharpay's end rattled the old speaker on Gabriella's laptop.

Sharpay lifted her sparkling, jewel-encased phone and said, "Hold that thought." She rose from the couch and stepped out of frame, showing the healthy ends of her blonde hair and long, tan legs. The image was enough to make Gabriella self-conscious as she hunched over her laptop in a tattered T-shirt and shapeless sweatpants.

Sharpay reappeared behind the couch and said to the camera, "You're in luck. I have to run so I'm granting you one more day to decide. You could spend the next month wiping snot off those spoiled brats' noses, or you could have the time of your life with your best friend in Positano. Choose wisely. Ciao!"

In an instant the screen flashed black. Gabriella sat unmoved, her exhausted reflection staring back at her as the two sat alone together on her tiny twin bed. She closed the laptop and set it on her bedside table with its shorter leg haphazardly balanced on an old coaster on the floor. The covers were fresh and cool as she pulled them up, then blankly staring at the dark ceiling, she thought of Sharpay's news.

The girl really had it all. She lived in paradise where she drove luxury cars, wore designer clothes, and found a handsome heir who wanted to marry her. But Gabriella wasn't envious of that, at least, not exactly. She didn't want _everything_ Sharpay had. She could do without the cars and the clothes and probably the man for a little while. But what bugged her more than anything was that Sharpay had everything Sharpay ever wanted, but Gabriella was working so hard to be nowhere closer to reaching her own goals. She hadn't graduated college, hadn't found a well-paying job, and hadn't permanently moved out of her hometown.

She told herself that nothing could be resolved at this hour and worrying about it would only eat into her precious sleep time. So she clenched the covers up to her chin, closed her eyes, and inhaled through her nose.

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

_Four_.

* * *

Startled awake by a series of loud bells and dings, the alarm on her phone showed the time as five in the morning. Even the sun wasn't up yet, but Gabriella reluctantly dragged herself into the bathroom for an ice-cold shower when memories of the beach she'd seen through Skype resurfaced. Sharpay had done great work planting the idea, and it only kept growing more desirable during rush hour. But once she reunited with the kids, the thought of abandoning them for a whole month seemed impossible. She nannied four of them: Michael, Jasmine, Penelope, and Lucas. Michael and Jasmine were talkative, energetic four-year-old twins who entertained each other with tag, nursery rhymes, and sharing Mr. Potato Head toys. Penelope and Lucas, the next set of twins, were only toddlers whose adorable imitations of adult speech were still incoherent babbles. They truly weren't any more snot-nosed than any other kids, even if they were born into a ridiculously affluent and privileged family.

There was so much to do today with potty training, cooking, cleaning, and playing that Gabriella finally realized the time at half past six, meaning Mrs. Collins had snuck in an hour ago. She grabbed her bag, hugged the four of them goodbye, then tracked down Mrs. Collins to her bedroom.

Gabriella knocked and Mrs. Collins opened her door, startled by the only other adult she should expect to be in her home. "Gabriella," she said, "what are you still doing here?"

Gabriella put on a casual, unhurried tone as she said, "Sorry to overstay, but I wanted to know when I'm getting paid." Karen Collins opened her mouth when a loud bell interrupted. She took her phone out of her pocket and held it up between she and Gabriella. Uninterested and unconcerned by Gabriella's question, Karen began texting, and the little clicks of her touchscreen keyboard filling the awkward silence. "Karen?"

She finally looked at Gabriella with a smile, and for a moment, Gabriella saw understanding. She trusted those kind grey eyes of hers, connecting the two of them through her sympathy. It was a look that convinced Gabriella she had been in the wrong, that her judgements were unfounded and her opinions too harsh. Karen was a good woman, really. She would never hurt Gabriella. Especially not with such a nice smile on her face.

Karen maintained her kind tone and expression as she said, "Thomas should have sorted that out." She lovingly patted Gabriella on the shoulder as she stepped around her.

Gabriella wished she could drop it, wished that she didn't need to be so insistent. Karen was so nice and so understanding, but Gabriella was already a month late on rent. She had no other choice but to press. "I'm sorry, but he didn't. It's been almost six weeks since I was paid."

"Six weeks?" Karen turned and approached Gabriella again, arms crossed over her chest and a suspicious frown on her face. "No, we only owe you for the last cycle and this week. So three weeks."

Gabriella insisted, "Mrs. Collins, I know when the last time I got paid was. I can show you on my bank account."

"That wouldn't be of any use since we pay you in cash."

"But I always deposit it the next day, as you will see on my statements. I have no reason to lie about this. I just want what's owed to me."

"Of course, dear. I wouldn't accuse you of such a thing. You're not a swindler. You're just mistaken." In her third attempt to dismiss Gabriella, Karen turned around and walked away again.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Collins."

"Gabriella," Karen spun to face her and said, "my dear, it's late. I'd like to spend some time with my children before their bedtime if you don't mind." She rested a hand on Gabriella's shoulder, and the trance lifted. Gabriella saw through the fake smile. She saw the truth then. She wasn't being understood, she was being lied to. Karen didn't care, maybe never cared, and now she just wanted her gone.

"I want you to spend time with them, too," Gabriella said, "but I hope you can sympathize with the fact that I have rent and bills and groceries that I need to keep up with."

Karen took her hands off her and the air suddenly felt bitterly cold. "It's only been a few weeks' delay. If you didn't have the savings to cover a few weeks that's no one else's fault but your own."

Karen turned her back on her, and Gabriella decided that would be the last time. The anger burned under her skin from her locked jaw to her clenched fists. She snapped, "Write me a check if you need to. I don't care anymore. You are overdue and either you pay me today or I quit."

Karen's blonde bob flared as she spun to face Gabriella. "Excuse me?" she yelled. "What is wrong with you? I've never in my life heard such vile attitude in my life!"

Gabriella's dropped her voice, deep with threat and urgency. "Get your fancy designer purse back in here, take out your checkbook, and pay me the remaining balance or I quit."

"I will not tolerate your hostile demands, Gabriella!" She closed the space between them as the maniacal smile grew across her face. With a daring, mocking voice Karen said, "You should have thought long and hard before biting the hand that feeds you."

"Maybe if you listened to me complaining about my missing paychecks the past month, you wouldn't get bit. Where's my money?"

"You're not seeing any of it for a long while. Maybe that'll teach you a thing or two about manners. And if you couldn't tell already, you're fired!"

It took every ounce of self-discipline to refrain from spitting on her, from calling her every expletive she could think of, from doing something she'd truly regret. Against every urge to do something she either wasn't brave or stupid enough to do, Gabriella left. She slammed her car door shut and started the engine, screeching out into the street and aggressively weaving through the slower traffic on the highway. She yelled a combination of cuss words and hateful names into her windshield until it started to fog over, each one raising her anxiety and leaving her no closer to defeating the monster she uncovered tonight.

* * *

"She's a fucking sociopath – a psycho bitch! I swear to God that monster took sadistic pleasure in the whole situation. Can you believe someone would be so cold and so vile?" Sharpay held up her hands to check her nails, unphased and even bored of Gabriella's story. Granted, Gabriella was on her third reiteration, but she finally felt she was getting to the heart of her fury. "God! I want to sue her up the ass."

Sharpay dragged the nail file across an imperfect end and said, "Well, as I offered before, I can get you a lawyer."

It was a tempting offer. Mr. Collins was a lawyer, but that made it even more perfect. Sharpay could connect Gabriella with a whole legal counsel if needed, meaning she could fight and win on the Collins' home territory. "Are you sure?" Gabriella asked. "I don't know how I could ever pay you back."

Sharpay shook her head. "Don't worry about it."

"Thanks, Shar."

A mischievous smirk made a brief appearance on Sharpay's glossy lips before she continued, "Although, there is one teeny tiny thingy you could do for me."

Whatever it was, it didn't seem so teeny tiny from the look of that vanishing smile. Gabriella instinctively leaned away from the phone, guarded and concerned. Against her hesitations, she asked, "What is it?"

"It might be positively torturous for such a busy body like you, but Gabriella, please, I'm _begging_ you to get your cute little butt on a plane, sip champagne all the way to Italy, and come relax on the beach with me! I know, it sounds like _so_ much hard labor! We'll go shopping and drink wine and go to parties and pile on the yacht. There'll be fancy art shows and symphonies. I'm inviting so many people!"

Sharpay's sarcasm aside, it would be torturous. Gabriella had met many of Sharpay's friends before as personal assistant and feared the type she attracted. There were Lea and Emma, a set of fraternal twins, one strawberry blonde and one ginger, who ignored everything Gabriella said like she was nothing more than the invisible help. Jackie, a pretty woman of Asian descent with healthy black hair down to her waist and a surgery-defined jawline, showed her hideous inside when she attempted to grab Gabriella's attention to clean her dog's accident by snapping her fingers. Sharpay reprimanded her, and Jackie stuck to calling out "you!" as she never bothered learning Gabriella's name. Then there was Tiara, Sharpay's second best friend. She was the antithesis of Sharpay's best qualities. She was more arrogant than confident, more selfish than carefree, and more greedy than charitable. If Sharpay's was light, then Tiara was a repulsive negativity. Even worse, Gabriella knew the feeling was mutual.

"You know that's not my scene," Gabriella said.

"Don't you know how long I've been waiting to show you my new life?" Sharpay whined, "But you're always busy. You promised me you'd visit here when I moved away, and it's already been a year. With all this marriage talk Rinaldo has suddenly become obsessed with, I need you here more than ever. Please Gabriella. It's all I want."

Gabriella was tugged in each direction, all the excuses to stay home and the reasons to leave pulling her apart. It was such a generous offer, and likely due to the fact that the pair hadn't been face-to-face in over a year. Maybe Positano wouldn't be so bad. She could waste her days on the same beach she'd longingly watched in their Skype calls, and get a nice new tan to compete with Sharpay's. This vacation obviously wouldn't put her any closer to her goals, but neither was anything she did at home. Maybe a break from it all would be the reset she needed. She'd been tempted to go plenty of times before, and now that she didn't have a job and soon no apartment, there really was no excuse. She folded. "Fine."

Sharpay screamed at the top of her lungs and giddily bounced up and down on her couch. "It's going to be so much fun!" She clapped her hands excitedly and cheered, "You're finally coming!"

* * *

With a bunch of outfit changes and bikinis packed, Gabriella boarded the next flight to Naples. After a disorienting moment in the city with an out of date Italian to English dictionary, she found the train station and set off to Positano. It was easy enough to find a cab, the universal wave into the street worked as well as it did stateside. When they turned around the hillside and Gabriella caught flashing glimpses of the city between the old buildings, her heart skipped a beat. The endless water, sailboats, and beautiful houses seemingly stacked up the cliffside belonged to the movies. She never would have thought this could ever be her reality, especially for an entire month.

By the time her cab arrived in their neighborhood, the setting sun had coated the town in a dim, orange glow. By the guidance of the surreal light, she dragged her stubborn suitcase across the steppingstones, through the pebbles, and along the tile beneath the arches on the porch. She knocked on the door and bounced in place, too excited to keep herself still.

A pink oval obscured by the glass in the door grew clearer as Sharpay approached. Barely a second had passed between the click of the lock and Sharpay's slamming embrace.

Sharpay squealed and leaned away, patting the concealer beneath her eyes and blinking back happy tears. "Oh my God."

"Oh my God," Gabriella parroted with a tearful laugh.

"You have no idea how badly I've wanted to see you again," Sharpay cried.

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner."

"But you're here now!" Sharpay cheered, "You're here!"

They hugged again before discussing the travel and fangirling over the view, rambling from one idea to the next in an excited frenzy. Gabriella slowed her frantic speech when she noticed a tall, tanned man join Sharpay's side. He had dark brown hair and a prominent yet crooked nose. His physique was muscular, and his eyes were a deep, handsome brown.

"You must be Rinaldo," she said. "It's so nice to finally meet you!"

He kissed each of Gabriella's cheeks and smiled warmly at her without uttering a word.

Sharpay constricted her arm around his and said, "He's a little shy at first." She stole a peck before grabbing Gabriella's hands and offered, "Let me show you around the house! Rinaldo, grab her suitcase. This is the foyer, and over here is the staircase. As you can see it's super narrow. I learned the building regulations are way different than the US." Sharpay took Gabriella through the hallway running over the foyer and led her to the door at the very end. "This is where you'll be staying, but there's a bit of a hiccup." Sharpay nervously cleared her throat and explained, "We overextended our invitations so one of Rinaldo's guy friends will have to bunk with you. Hope that won't be a problem."

Gabriella looked at Sharpay with a stoic gaze, unsure how to tell if she was serious or not.

Sharpay laughed, "Just kidding. But wouldn't that be so much fun?" She took her into the other guest rooms and opened a couple windows to show her the view, the backyard barely large enough for their small pool, a patio, and a shed before the ground plummeted to the street below. But beyond the neighbors and streets was an endless sea glistening with moonlight. "Isn't it fabulous?"

"It's paradise!" Gabriella said, listening to the delicate sound of waves crawling onto the shore. "It fits you perfectly."

Sharpay grasped her hand and lead her down the narrow staircase and into kitchen where all her and Rinaldo's friends were gathered. "Everyone!" Sharpay announced, snatching the whole room's attention. "Let me introduce you all to my best friend, Gabriella Montez." Gabriella glanced around the kitchen, her eyes pulled to the faces she recognized first – Tiara, Emma, Jackie, and Lea. Sharpay spoke about how they met and her nannying gig as Gabriella looked to the other faces around the room. Most were like Rinaldo – tan, muscular, brown eyes, and some even had his crooked nose. But the last man she found, blue-eyed with short, light brown hair, wore an unmistakably horrified expression. A tense second passed before she recognized him too, then her stomach dropped, and her expression morphed to mirror the terror in his.

* * *

Gabriella stared at the alfredo cascading over the twirls of fettucine mountain, not wanting so much as a bite. She felt Sharpay's eyes revisit her plate again, knowing she could piece it together by her loss of appetite that something was definitely wrong. Gabriella excused herself to no one in particular, stopped by the bathroom for a quick splash of cold water, and went upstairs to her bedroom.

She was halfway down the length of the hallway when the door next to hers opened. She froze in place with her breath caught in her throat, fearing it could be the only other person who wouldn't have the appetite for the feast downstairs. Her heart stopped when he stepped into the hallway and looked at her, but the shocked expression from earlier didn't reappear. She dropped her eyes to the floor and walked by, his footsteps quietly fading away further down the hallway before pausing. She was almost to her room when he called out, "Ella." She looked over his shoulder, staring at his frown as he said, "It's nice to see you again."

"You too," she returned the curtesy, even though it was a blatant lie.

He seemed pleased enough with her response to continue down the stairs, and Gabriella retreated to her room. She locked the door behind her and changed out of her stale travel clothes. "It's nice to see you again?" she scoffed. How could he pretend everything okay when it obviously wasn't? Pretend the teenage dream they both believed would last forever was never meant to be anything more than that – a silly dream. Positano was the place to forget all her problems and complications, not find new ones. Now with Troy and her sharing the house, nothing could be certain anymore.

* * *

**AN: Pretty please with a cherry on top let me know what you thought of this chapter! I cannot understate how much your support means to me. It makes me feel appreciated for the work I did and motivates me moving forward. If you read the old version, please let me know how this compares to the original. And if you're new, give me your first impression. I'm super excited to see all the reactions!**

**Much love,**

**S.**


	2. Notte (Night)

**AN: Thank you so much for all the feedback on the first chapter! Super pleased to know that we're off on the right start again. Enjoy!**

* * *

Her first night in paradise was sleepless; tossing, turning and entangling her restless limbs in the soft sheets and scratchy comforter. She spent hours curling then stretching, trying every comfortable position as the old bed frame creaked and groaned under the weight of her body.

The room played tricks on her, using the shadows and her sleep-deprived mind to create illusions. The trinkets on top of the dresser became rodents with sharp teeth and the glistening gold paint became glowing yellow eyes. The lamp and coat-hanger converged to produce a man's silhouette, watching her in amusement as she struggled to find sleep.

Overcome with childish fear and paranoia, she jumped from the bed and flicked on the light, confirming that the furniture wasn't morphing into her greatest fears.

The bed released a deep, guttural groan as she lowered onto its edge. A soft murmur of voices reached her ears, but were indistinct, and she couldn't make out a single word. Maybe whoever it was didn't want her to overhear. She imagined two Victorian-era maids gossiping about her in the hall. A strange, nearly naked lady flopping around like a dying fish on the bed was the most entertaining thing the ghosts had seen in a very long time. She smiled to herself at the crazy idea her loopy head came up with, but the voices continued, and suddenly it wasn't so funny anymore. Was this an actual hallucination?

She recognized a word, "Honey," and then the speaker, Sharpay. She listened a moment longer and deciphered a whole phrase. "This is so unfair," she whined. The bed moaned as she stood, but once she held the cold metal handle in her grasp, she froze. Her instinct to intervene conflicted with the realization that doing so would prove two things. First, she couldn't sleep and that would raise concern. Second, she was eavesdropping. She dropped her hand to her side and gave herself permission to listen longer and decide then if it warranted intervention. But now the voices had ceased. All was still and silent in the house again.

She recognized the sound of the floorboards in the hall groaning under the weight of someone's gait, then the door suddenly opened. "Jesus!" Sharpay gasped and gripped the front of her pink night gown in surprise.

Gabriella was caught like a child who had just been seen sneaking cookies out of the jar.

"Did we wake you?" Sharpay asked. "I saw the light under the door."

"No, I was already waking up." Gabriella carefully lied. "This jetlag is really toying with my sleep schedule."

Sharpay stared off, momentarily lost in thought. "How much did you hear?"

Gabriella wondered how much truth to say. Sharpay looked anxious, afraid to hear how much she knew. Gabriella confessed, "Something about being unfair?"

Sharpay inhaled deeply through her nose and ran her fingers through the hair on top of her scalp. Gabriella saw the stress forming in the wrinkles on her forehead and realized too late that _this_ was too much truth. "I'll make tea," Sharpay said.

Gabriella followed her through the hallway, tempted to pinch the back of Sharpay's shirt so she didn't get lost in the pitch-black nothingness. They turned around the corner where the light from the foyer illuminated the bottom of the stairs, and Gabriella tightly gripped the railing as she descended with her feet turned to the side across the narrow steps. The marble tile was cold yet relieving on the rough soles of her feet, and she followed Sharpay to the kitchen.

Sharpay leaned her hips against the counter stood on her toes to reach inside the cabinet above the knives. She carefully removed a small yellow kettle, a finger pinched over the delicate lid to keep it from sliding off. Gabriella was perched at the island across the sink, watching Sharpay's face as she concentrated on the tap water slowly pouring into the kettle. She became conscious of the silence once Sharpay turned the water off, and wondered if Sharpay could hear it too, or if she was busy replaying whatever happened in the bedroom and also deciding how much truth to share as well.

"How about herbal tea, to help you sleep?" Sharpay suggested.

"Please." As Sharpay disappeared into the pantry, Gabriella asked, "So, what was going on tonight?"

"I don't really know," she called out, her voice reverberating a small echo from the confines of the pantry. "Rinaldo promised me he'd stay in Positano the whole month. But the vineyard is having some issues with broken machinery, so he and the guys are going up to Campinola until it's all fixed, which is going to take Lord knows how long."

"_All_ the guys are going up?" Gabriella asked with her hope disguised as clarification.

"Yes. If they don't make it back by Wednesday they'll miss the opera!" She dropped the canister of tea bags on the granite counter with a pout. "Maybe we should go with. I think the others would like to see the estate."

"But some quality girl time might be just what we need to get everyone introduced to each other."

Gabriella watched her expression to see how she liked the idea, but Sharpay forgot to respond, or became too engrossed in another worry to remember to. Gabriella wanted to press and confirm that she would be spared of Troy's presence for another few days, but just then the kettle whistled, and there was a sound from the foyer, brief and quiet, but distinctly metallic. Sharpay turned around to attend to the tea, and Gabriella looked through the doorway and past the shadows to the foyer where a red envelope lied on the center of the cold tile floor.

Gabriella tried to make sense of it. She assumed that mail worked differently in Italy, and perhaps the mailmen came at night. She went to the envelope and held it in her hands. Her fingers traced the crisp edges, sharp enough to cut, then flipped it around to read the recipient inked in gorgeously deliberate cursive: _To The Blonde_.

Intrigued and amused, Gabriella took the envelope to its recipient bouncing tea bags in a pot of hot water. She hid the red envelope behind her back and teased, "I think someone has a secret admirer!"

Sharpay's eyes snapped to Gabriella with immediate recognition as if she already knew what happened, although Gabriella still had the envelope hidden. Then Gabriella set the envelope on the counter where Sharpay could see. There was very little indication of how she felt behind her stone gaze, but Gabriella knew it was bad, and was compelled to apologize although she didn't know what for.

"Where did you get that?" Sharpay asked, her voice almost at a whisper.

"Your foyer. Must have slid in through the mail slot."

Sharpay cracked a weak smile, but it didn't convince Gabriella. "Rinaldo is probably thinking I'm mad and overreacting for being out of the bedroom this long. Enjoy the tea. I'll see you in the morning."

"Are you-"

"Goodnight Gabriella."

She watched Sharpay's figure disappear into the shadows before she turned behind the wall. She had never been so readily dismissed by her, not even when she was her employee. Did Sharpay have a double life, leading on a secret admirer while dating Rinaldo at the same time?

The herbal tea seemed to do the trick and Gabriella fell asleep finally at four in the morning. She awoke to the roar of an engine and the brightness of the afternoon sun flooding her room through the thin curtains. She approached the window and prepared herself for the view, knowing it had the capacity to inspire happiness like she hadn't known for years, and it didn't disappoint. The variety of colorful homes led her gaze down the cliffside and out to the harbor where the boats appeared as little white bugs from this distance. It was a captivating scene, the people and cars bustling around, the breeze disturbing the greenery. She stood there for some time, smiling to herself and taking it all in, knowing the whole time this was a memory in the making.

Gabriella came down the stairs as Sharpay was returning, leaving the front door propped open to welcome the sunlight and breeze inside. "They're gone," she said solemnly. "I just kissed him goodbye."

"Did he say how long it will take?"

"He'll know when he sees the damage. He said he'd call."

"Okay," Gabriella said, unsure what else to do or say.

It was strange now, knowing there was something Sharpay wouldn't share with her. Their time together in California and the years that followed brought out nearly every memory and secret. They discussed everything - fears for the future, the pain of their pasts. But now there was a red envelope without a purpose or an explanation, and none of Gabriella's assumptions painted Sharpay positively.

Gabriella asked her, "What was that last night?" The lack of change in Sharpay's features said more than any expression could. No answer was her answer, and Gabriella quickly learned not to ask again. She switched subjects instead. "I need breakfast."

Gabriella prepared fresh, hot oatmeal topped with sliced almonds and a dollop of peanut butter. The familiar four - Tiara, Emma, Lea, and Jackie - sat together at one end of the table, sharing small bowls of cubed fruit and seeds. Seated alone on the opposite end of the massive oak table was a woman with a long purple and black braid reaching her waist with skin beautiful and dark like Lupita Nyong'o. The squareness of her jaw and the prominence of her cheekbones added to the similarities of the Oscar-winning actress.

"I love your hair," Gabriella said as she took the seat across from her.

"Thanks."

Gabriella took a bite of oatmeal and continued to stare, rudely. "You know who you look like?"

"Lupita Nyong'o," she responded with clear certainty.

The bite of oatmeal became lead in Gabriella's stomach, heavy and uncomfortable. She felt the heat of embarrassment and shame rise like the blood in her face. "Oh my God, I bet you get that all the time. I'm so sorry, I really didn't mean anything insensitive by it."

The woman dismissed her apologies with a shake of her head. "It's okay. My black friends see it, too. No offense taken. Just don't ask to touch my braids and we'll be cool." She smiled.

Gabriella nodded, awkwardly stuck for what to say.

"I'm Ivonne," she said. "What was your name?"

"Gabriella Montez. I worked for Sharpay for a few months."

"She's told me about you," she said admiringly, like she respected her for the role she played in Sharpay's stories. "You two are close." Gabriella nodded while Ivonne stirred her bowl of cereal and asked, "What do you think of Rinaldo?"

Gabriella shrugged. "Quiet," she said.

"It's the quiet ones you have to keep an eye on." She winked.

A gust of Chanel perfume wafted by, and Gabriella glanced over her shoulder, watching Sharpay as she joined the other four at their end of the table.

* * *

They walked through the plaza in rows of two like Madeline, but with the energy of Mean Girls. Sharpay led at the front, followed by Tiara and Emma, then Jackie and Lea, and finally Gabriella and Ivonne at the tail. Gabriella enjoyed the faces of the locals passing by, men and women alike, their eyes lingering on them with disbelief and curiosity. No one else dared to strut down the streets of Positano in a skin-tight, hot pink mini skirt and white tank top with foreign words bedazzled in pink rhinestones. No one except the dazzling queen of pink, Miss. Sharpay Evans. She took every step not like she belonged there, but like she _owned_ it. This was _her_ city and everyone else was merely a guest.

Sharpay paused at the door into the boutique. "This lady knows her shit," she said over her shoulder to the posse behind her. "I wouldn't dare go to anyone else in the city. They always make me look fat."

Tiara dramatically gasped and said, "Impossible!"

The women entered the little shop and were greeted by a platter of mimosas. Gabriella nabbed two for herself. The four flocked to the rack with the latest season while Sharpay disappeared with the seamstress and Gabriella and Ivonne stood purposelessly in the center of the shop. It became clear to Gabriella that, like herself, Ivonne didn't quite belong to the excessive wealth Sharpay and the four could afford. She asked Ivonne how she and Sharpay met.

"My family has worked for Rinaldo's for generations," Ivonne said. "The women clean the estate and the men are hands on the vineyard. I met her once they started dating, and I help the both of them around the house in Positano now."

Gabriella asked, "So, in a way, do you work for Sharpay?"

"I suppose. But I consider her a friend more than a boss."

"I'm very familiar with that feeling."

The seamstress called Sharpay over, and everyone gathered around. Gabriella shared a long couch with the others and watched as Sharpay was examined with a meticulous eye. The seamstress pinched the fabric on the small of Sharpay's back and said, "If you like this one, we can take it in at the waist to accentuate your figure." She let go of the waistline and ran her fingers along the inch-wide straps over her shoulders. "Looks like we'll need to give some more length to the strap. You have such strong and sexy shoulders."

Sharpay said, "That's code for manly, ladies."

The group laughed and the seamstress teased her, "Oh Sharpay, it wouldn't hurt you to take a compliment."

Sharpay smiled and rolled her eyes. "What does everyone think?" She gave a twirl, the fringe on the skirt and across her bust blooming around her body.

Everyone except Gabriella and Ivonne voiced their approval with excited squeals and a flurry of compliments.

Sharpay asked, "Ivonne?"

"I don't like fringe."

The air was sucked from the room as Sharpay pursed her lips and considered Ivonne's opinion. Gabriella realized the other four probably never went against Sharpay and were terrified to see the monster they imagined she morphed into at any slight disagreement. Sharpay could be blunt and at times rudely so, but Gabriella understood something about her that the others evidently didn't. She was always ruthlessly, unapologetically herself. She never skirted around the problem, never bullshitted. It was a characteristic meant to be celebrated, not feared. But maybe Gabriella could appreciate the truth in a way they didn't.

Sharpay asked, "Gabriella?"

Gabriella said, "Not your color."

Sharpay looked to the seamstress and opened her mouth to talk, but the seamstress was faster to reassure, "Of course we will dye it in hot pink. Anything for you, Sharpay."

"I love the sound of that."

* * *

It wasn't until lunch that could Gabriella confidently confirm that Sharpay was, in fact, avoiding her.

She passed by again, this time with a platter of cheese in one hand and meats in the other. She had already brought in the olives, the escargot, the shrimp, and the tea sandwiches. Gabriella offered to help each trip, but Sharpay quietly peeped the same response each time, "I'm good."

Gabriella decided that on her next trip in she would confront her, but Sharpay must have anticipated the plan because she didn't come inside again. Gabriella joined the others on the patio, a massive cover looming over the glass table and outdoor chairs. She took a seat next to Ivonne, and asked for a napkin that she knew Sharpay had forgotten inside. When she excused herself to retrieve some for the group, Gabriella silently followed.

At the dinner table, Gabriella asked her, "Can we talk?" She noticed the subtle, tense rise in Sharpay's shoulders.

"Not now," Sharpay snapped, annoyed with her persistence. She began to walk around her, but Gabriella put her arm against the wall like a bar to trap her in.

"I'm just curious, Sharpay. I don't deserve punishment for that."

"I could handle curiosity. It's your judgement I take issue with."

"Judgement?"

"I can see it in your eyes. You think I'm cheating on him, don't you?"

"The possibility crossed my mind, but you're not giving me any more explanation to-"

Sharpay interrupted, her voice snapped like the crack of a whip, "I would never, _ever_ cheat on someone. Especially a man as wonderful to me as Rinaldo."

"I believe you, Sharpay. I just want to know what's going on."

Sharpay contemplated, calmer by some degree but with a fire still present in her eyes. "Meet me in the kitchen at midnight."

* * *

While the day had been mostly splendid, the night was soured by a realization. Gabriella was in her room, toweling off after a hot shower, when she noticed the darkness outside. It was night, meaning the day was over, meaning she had lost a day of time between she and Troy's eventual reunion.

She lied in bed and stared at the ceiling, breathing in counts of four. It was half an hour before she was to meet with Sharpay and receive an explanation, but some foolish curiosity was festering. For whatever reason, or whatever feeling without a reason, she wished to see Troy's room. She could compare it and he against the dorm room she could recall vividly - the claustrophobic bathroom and the rotating selection of videogames sprawled across the floor. She hoped a glimpse into his new habitat would expose the changes, the intricacies of this unfamiliar man he had become.

She stepped out into the hallway, braless beneath an old high school sweater, and shorts. She looked down the empty hallway for some time, listening to the silent, vacant noise. The metal handle's dim glow was hypnotic, drawing her closer and closer with the lure of secrets just beyond its lock. She easily turned the handle and found it odd he left the door open.

She entered the dark room, and on the top of the dresser facing the bed, she spotted a single guitar pick. The plastic was hard in her hands, with a fake marble pattern.

* * *

_5 ½ years ago_

In the corner of Troy's dorm room sat a battered acoustic guitar whose bleached maple wood was coated in band stickers and dents. She'd learned the whole backstory – his aunt Carol, an elementary music teacher, gifted him the guitar and a set of instructional VHS tapes for his thirteenth birthday. At first his parents were weary of the ruckus he'd make, but they eventually came around and got him in lessons once he mastered the tapes, if only to get the sound out of the house. Somehow they found Pete, an amateur punk rock guitarist with a sleeve of tattoos and gauges the size of Troy's wrists. He wanted Troy to learn to play by ear and insisted so much so that he tore the beginner's booklet his parents sent with him in half. He used words like _fuck_ and _shit_ whenever he fumbled on a chord, and that made him especially cool in Troy's eyes. Now Troy was a magnificent strummer, and although he never learned to read sheet music, he easily caught onto any song and parroted the notes with the careful plucks of his fingertips. Sometimes, if Gabriella managed to coax him, he'd sing for her too. It felt something like nostalgia every time he sang. She could fall in love with the songs all over again, a visceral collision between the familiar and the new.

The image of the guitar slumped against his closet door would be forever burned in her memory. She was anchored to it, using it as a crutch to stabilize herself against the twists and spins she put them both through.

"Can't we just…isn't there something…?"

"It's not my choice, Troy."

"Long distance? We could make that work."

"It's not the right time."

"C'mon, Ella. There has to be a way."

He was pleading, and she hated herself for reducing him to such a desperate mess.

This was all her fault. The scholastic decathlon whiz kid assumed it would be easy. She didn't study and once the bad grades started coming in, she didn't change any habits. She was distracted, her mother said, blaming her for finding a boyfriend instead of studying day and night like she told her to. After final grades came in, Mom was furious and refused to pay another cent towards next semester's tuition. She convinced Gabriella to come home and figure out what she was going to do, make a plan, before she returned. But home was where expectation and smoke stained the walls yellow, coated in toxic fumes. Gabriella cycled through countless odd jobs to afford a new home away from Mom's cloud of disappointment and stale cigarettes. She was never able to return to Stanford.

"I'm sorry, Troy."

"If this is really the end, then there's one last thing I have to do. I'm a sentimental guy, as I'm sure you've learned." He reached into the drawer inside his nightstand and pulled out a guitar pick. "I want you to have this. It's the very first one I used. Remember me, Ella." She took it from him, tracing her finger along its small, jagged chip. She put it in her back pocket and turned towards the door, hoping to make it out before she or he could break down again.

Troy followed her and said, "When we think about the last things we ever said to each other, I don't want you to remember this pain. I want you to remember how I felt about you and what you meant to me. I want you to remember this." His fingers laced through the soft hair behind her ears, his thumbs rested on her cheeks, and his palms held her jaw. He bent to her height and leaned in inches away from her until all she could see was his face. Afraid he would try to kiss her, she grabbed his forearms. He paused for a moment as if he was waiting for the memory to start recording. His eyes drilled into hers with focus, and he delivered his final words with clarity and intent. "Ella, I love you." He lowered his hands, stood straight, and waited for the reciprocation.

"I know."

* * *

_Today_

"What are you doing in my room?" The voice cut through the silence so suddenly she yelped out in surprise.

She held her chest as if that could help her catch her breath. She looked at the black silhouette in the doorway, unable to see his face in the darkness, but knowing exactly who it was. "I thought you were at the vineyard."

"Clearly. What are you doing in my room?" he repeated, but harsher now.

"I was…curious."

He moved and she flinched. Everything came to light with a flip of the switch. He carried a duffle bag over his shoulders, an aggressive stare aimed at her. "Don't you think it's a little invasive to go into someone's room while they're gone?"

"It is. I'm sorry."

Her words went unanswered. He moved into the room and dropped his duffle bag on the bed. "You didn't take anything, did you?"

"No, I…" she felt the pick pinched between her fingers, and her hesitation caused him to look. She ashamedly approached him and offered it back, and he slowly opened his palm to accept it. He stared down at the pick and rotated it, studying it for blemishes, for any damage she might have caused in the brief time she had it. "I'm sorry," she said.

"You already said that."

Gabriella caught the message loud and clear. She wasn't to enter his room again, and she was to be subjected to his passive aggressive shaming until he ever decided to forgive her. "It won't happen again," she promised as she stepped out into the hallway. The door slammed shut as she walked away, and she heard the click of a lock.

Downstairs the tile was frigid as she passed through the foyer, a gust of freezing air seeping in beneath the front door. She paced the kitchen restlessly, waiting ten, fifteen, thirty minutes after midnight.

Sharpay never appeared.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you thought. I'll try to have the next chapter out within two weeks from today.**


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